


Unfurl

by perihadion



Series: Shadowboxing [5]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Literal Sleeping Together, Spooning, Touch-Starved, Unresolved Romantic Tension, brief encounters, can we 99
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22213897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perihadion/pseuds/perihadion
Summary: Din stops over for a visit with Cara, everything is a little closer than she’s used to.
Relationships: Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Shadowboxing [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599208
Comments: 40
Kudos: 288





	Unfurl

**Author's Note:**

> Do not comment with Omera hate.

_there’s an empty space inside my heart_  
_where the weeds take root_  
_tonight I’ll set you free_

— “Lotus Flower”, Radiohead

*

They never talked about it, that was the unspoken agreement. Talking was often counterproductive in their line of work, and what was there to say?

What was there the need to say?

He would tilt his helmet at her almost imperceptibly and she would know just how things were going to go that night: what he needed, what he wanted. Or, perhaps she would be the one tilting her head, and he would come to her.

It was natural — biological — for two people keyed up after battle, adrenaline rushing, to make a habit of sleeping together. And they had something more than that: a shared physical language, a way of moving together in the field that was almost supernatural — a way of understanding each other without speaking.

If Greef noticed he never said anything. He wasn’t the type to make sly comments. And Cara figured she wasn’t Din’s only lay (in fact, she was sure he had been back to Sorgan at least once) and he was far from being hers.

But sometimes she would feel the boundaries getting blurred in her head.

Like, tonight, for example.

She considered the Mandalorian standing before her. He seemed tired. She could just tell by the way he stood: no less tall or proud than usual, but she could just ... tell.

“How’s the kid?” she asked.

He cocked his head a little, “Safe.”

She stepped back from the doorway and let him into her room. He crossed to the other side and took off his rifle, propping it up against the wall. She thought she heard a sigh of something like pain.

“You rustin’ up there, tin can?”

He turned slightly to look at her, and said, “I’m fine.” She gave him a ‘sure-you-are’ smile, and he sat down on her bed.

Incredible how at home he was in her space these days.

She walked over and climbed onto the bed behind him, kneeling with one leg either side of his hips. “Been a while,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders and pressing her thumbs into the back of his neck where she knew — not that it meant anything — he held all his tension.

He inhaled sharply. “Yeah.”

“Any cuts?” she asked, and then, leaning forward to look at him askance, “You need me to play nurse?”

“Just bruises,” he said. “And I’m —” he paused for a long time, and then said, “I’m tired. I just wanted to see you.”

Her hands stopped for a moment.

“Is that okay?” he asked, and she thought his voice betrayed a hint of trepidation.

She lost herself for a moment, ran her fingers up and between his cowl and the skin of his neck, making him shudder. Then she caught herself, and pulled her hands away. “Uh, yeah,” she said. “Of course.”

It didn’t mean anything.

They moved together as he turned, stiffly, to lie on his side and she behind him.

She supposed even Mandalorians like to be the little spoon sometimes.

“You’re a mess, Mando,” she said.

“How can you tell?” was the wry response.

She found herself toying with his cape, and put her hand on his back plate. “This can’t be comfortable to lie down in,” she said.

“It’s not.”

“So why don’t you —” her fingers found the fastenings and, when he didn’t move to stop her, started undoing them.

It was reverent, almost ritualistic, the way she removed his armour piece by piece, leaving him in just his clothes and helmet. It was like unfurling the petals of a flower not yet ready to bloom. When she was done she considered the man lying before her, and ran a hand lightly over broad, sinewy shoulders, over his coarse shirt. Then without saying anything she pulled off her own armour and crowded in close to him, throwing an arm around his waist.

“Hey, Din,” she said. He stiffened almost imperceptibly, just for a moment, at the use of his real name. “You gotta start taking better care of yourself, man.”

“You worried about me?” came the response and she almost shoved him off the bed.

“The kid,” she said instead. “He needs you.”

He just hummed in response. Again, she found herself toying with his clothes, relishing the feeling of his body heat. The hard planes of his body, the thin, soft layer of body fat over his abdomen. It was nice to know that he was real, that he was more than just a ghost under all that beskar. He pushed up against her, and she got the sense the rare contact meant as much to him as her.

She found his hand and gently tugged the glove off, revealing tanned skin. Warm, and male, and human, and real. She laced their fingers together and he curled his closed so that they were holding hands.

“Nice to know you’re human,” she said.

“You already knew that.”

Cara thought back on some of the sexual encounters she had had in her life with people who definitely weren’t human. “Ah, not necessarily,” she said, and she felt a shake that she thought might have been a laugh.

She pressed a kiss into the rough — and probably filthy — fabric covering his shoulder, and then settled in behind him and closed her eyes. “Anyway,” she said. “It’s nice to make sure.”

When she woke the next morning he had already left. But she thought maybe she dreamed that in the middle of the night, in the pitch dark, someone had pushed her hair back from her face before pressing a gentle kiss against her forehead and whispering, “Thank you.”

No, she thought.

It had to be a dream.

It didn’t mean anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [twitter](http://twitter.com/theoceanblooms) or [tumblr](http://spectroscopes.tumblr.com)! If you really liked this fic, it would be lovely if you could [reblog](https://www.tumblr.com/reblog/190203622894/iHfJyhav) on tumblr.


End file.
